


Denial

by toomanyships-sendhelp (ValarMorghulis508)



Series: Only Human [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Denial, Dom Sherlock, John Bottom, Light BDSM, M/M, Sherlock Top, Sub John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 08:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12627315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValarMorghulis508/pseuds/toomanyships-sendhelp
Summary: Timestamp some time after part 2 - Written by the 'Only Human' co creator. I'm posting on her behalf :)





	Denial

“No,” John protests, and he doesn’t slap at Sherlock’s hands, but it’s a close thing. He digs his nails into his own thighs instead, vaguely hoping the pain will stave off his impending climax. “No, please, I…”  Sherlock pauses, looking at him with one eyebrow arched, waiting patiently. One hand on John’s cock and the other wrapped around the base of John’s favourite dildo that was currently inside the man. “I want you inside me when I come. Please, don’t want to come around that. I want you. Please.” 

Sherlock considered the plea for all of around two point four seconds. “That doesn’t fit in with the plan, John.” Waving aside the feebly protesting hands he continued with his rhythmic ministrations. John collapsed back, his head tilted back over the edge of the mattress until the room was upside down Sherlock had studied his John for a long time, knew just how deep to go, just the right angle to nudge against his prostate and how to twist his wrist at the tip of his cock just so. This had been the ultimate test of John’s limits thus far. Unrestrained and lying still merely at Sherlock’s ‘request’. The detective had been edging the good doctor for the best part of thirty minutes. Each time the man’s toes started to curl and his breaths became ragged and uneven he would pull the toy out and place a firm hand around John’s throat to stop him bucking up. John would produce wrenching sobs as his swollen cock quivered with the prolonged denial and he backed away from the precipice another time. Sherlock knew all it would take was one stroke too many and the whole exercise would be bust.  

“Stay still, john.” Sherlock muttered, the instruction received as though it had been shouted. John stilled immediately, drawing in laboured breaths and clenching his fists by his sides. Sherlock began his efforts anew, pausing only to place another smear of lubrication into his palm. Starting the toy slowly, pushing into the loose hole until it sat almost entirely within and withdrawing to begin again. His hand stroking from root to tip, a rare slip of the thumb into the slit at the top. Sometimes it only took a few strokes for John to get close and he would simply remove his hand, cock springing uselessly while John moaned incoherently. This was challenging, the staying put on command rather than by restraint. It was so easy when he was bound, helpless and unable to resist. Each time he neared his climax it would be so easy to reach up and give himself two firm strokes to completion when Sherlock backed away but he wouldn’t. And Sherlock knew he wouldn’t.  

John was a good boy. 

Sherlock’s phone rang out signalling a message. Leaving the toy inside John and moving the man’s foot to keep it pressed within he used one hand to check the phone while the other continued stroking. -Just how long do you intend on torturing him like that?- 

Sherlock looked at John who was covered in a sheen of sweat and was completely dishevelled. -That is no business of yours, brother. Stop spying. John wouldn’t like it. SH- He threw John’s underpants at the bookcase where it landed on a bust of Napoleon. His phone gave one more ding. It clearly had had the intended effect. -You are such a child. You know that isn’t the only one- -Shut up. I’m busy. SH- “Wh…who was that?” john panted as Sherlock’s full attention was returned to him. “No one who matters.” Came the vague reply. Conversation stopped entirely as John moaned and arched his back. Sherlock ceased, wrapping long fingers around flushed throat and squeezing until the moan ceased and John’s cock gave a few furtive twitches. When Sherlock was satisfied the danger had passed he gave the engorged member a few half-hearted strokes and removed his hand again, releasing John’s throat. John drew a ragged breath, staring at the upside down flat and hearing mostly his own pulse rushing in his ears. 

“Who?” He asked again, his voice hoarse from mistreatment. “I think you know, John.” Sherlock pulled the toy out of John and tossed it off the bed. John’s thoughts flipped from mortification that Mycroft had seen him so debased to sweet anticipation. The only reason Sherlock would remove it would be to replace it with something else. Sherlock pressed John’s knees up to his own chest, spreading John open and accessible. “What do you need, John?” Sherlock knelt behind him, pressing John’s leg harder into his chest and lining himself up. Rubbing the head of his cock against John’s rim and breaching just the tiniest amount before pulling back. “Christ Sherlock I need you!” John cried out, holding his shins to keep himself in position without even being asked. 

“Ask and you shall receive.” Sherlock replied smugly, plunging into John in one smooth motion and beginning to fuck him into the mattress. John held on for dear life, already a wet mess of nerves jangling between pain and pleasure as his  overused hole ached and contracted around Sherlock. The detective didn’t pause and kept up the brutal pace until he felt his own climax coming. “I’m not going to touch you John. If you don’t come before me, you won’t be at all.” John suppressed the natural retort that came to mind and focused in on the way Sherlock brushed past his prostate with each thrust. Sherlock traced the point where John’s body took him in, the way it stretched around him, loose and pliant. He let out a lewd moan, a baritone sound that sent tingles of arousal all the way to John’s toes. 

He could do this, he was sure of it. Sherlock’s thrusts started to become less precise the timing starting to disintegrate. One didn’t need to be a world class consulting detective to know when their lover was close. John knew he had seconds. Feeling daring he took one of Sherlock’s hands and placed it around his throat. They locked eyes and John gave Sherlock a nod. Sherlock squeezed his hand tight, completely cutting off any airflow John had previously enjoyed. White noise filled his ears as the pressure built, his lungs calling for air already but the more urgent call came from his groin as he toppled over the precipice. The moment Sherlock felt John’s come coat the space between them he released John’s throat and gave a guttural moan as he emptied himself inside the doctor.  

John drew in gasping breaths, his hips moving of their own accord as if to milk the remaining liquid from Sherlock. Back away Sherlock released john’s legs and let them rest, splayed open on the bed while he grabbed a towel from their bathroom and returned. 

John grinned sheepishly at him as Sherlock returned to the bed and lay his head on the shorter man’s chest. Pressing his ear against the damp skin he listened to John’s breathing even out and his heart rate slow while John carded his fingers through the unruly black curls and gave a satisfied sigh. Sherlock shushed him so he could hear the organs that kept John alive more clearly and John snorted with a smile. 

 


End file.
